The Frostbite Assassin
by Dactrius
Summary: Ongoing story of a female Sin'dorei assassin thrust into a prophecy that threatens the existance of two parallel worlds. Comments and critique very welcome.
1. Prologue

This is an 'in progress' storyline set in Warcraft's world of Azeroth. Many of the locations will be original and set in a much bigger variation of Azeroth than of that seen in _World of Warcraft_. Most of the characters will be original, with several Warcraft characters making an appearance. The story assumes the reader is at least a little familiar with the Warcraft universe. Thankyou for taking the time to read my story, I hope you enjoy it.

* * *

**PROLOGUE**

_Catalyst_

Silverpine Forest

Eastern Azeroth, Lordaeron.

As most travellers that brave the decrepit depths of the hallowed Silverpine forest will attest, it's never really possible to tell whether it's the middle of the day or the brink of nightfall. An apparent mantle of eternal darkness blankets the haunted woodland, offering the Forsaken that reside there a coveted environment to dwell in. However there is one other type of creature that thrives in such conditions, a hybrid of twisted morals and guided by a sense of vengeance-driven obligation. Though arisen from a caste of similarly-minded individuals, this particular specimen has endured hardships and experiences that would drive most equals to despair or even corruption.

Silently a shrouded figure approached one of Silverpine's many derelict structures. It was a looming cathedral of sorts, very rustic in design and clearly suffering from many years of neglect. The stone was brittle and overgrown with weeds and the windows were either boarded up or left broken as a reminder of the forests unforgiving nature. The mess of trees and shrubbery helped to mask the stranger's approach, however the complete lack of any sound as they navigated the branch-ridden grass was a testament to their experience in that particular regard. Very typical for an agent of this practice, the intruder wore a long hooded cloak that covered every inch of their body leaving the size of their frame as the only giveaway to their appearance. He or she was tall in stature and clearly Elven considering the protruding ears that reached skyward from beneath the hood. Though their profession could clearly have been anything, the almost-expert manner in which they silently advanced upon the cathedral betrayed their vocation as a Rogue of sorts.

It was immediately clear to the Elf that the dilapidated building had seen recent use, and could in fact still harbour... unsavoury types. Entering the structure would not be a problem, however what could be waiting inside was definitely a source of concern. The closest of the broken windows provided a possible vantage point to scout the interior and so the Rogue quietly attempted to scale the wall below it. As had been determined from a distance the stone was fragile and under-maintained, chipping away in clumps as it seemingly struggled to hold the weight upon it. After a little difficulty the hooded figure finally grasped the window sill and managed to pull the remainder of their lithe body into the gap. Calmly they pressed their back to one side of the frame and leaned into the hallway beyond, catching a glimpse of several robed figures disappearing into an adjacent room at the opposite end.

Within the cathedrals central chamber stood a large gathering of identically-dressed acolytes. The room was in ruins, strewn with various piles of masonry and the occasional fallen statue. The stone columns that supported the roof had long since abandoned their purpose and crumbled, poetically mirroring the state of the decaying walls. Moonlight pierced the room from the various openings in the ceiling, bathing the entire area in an eerie pale glow. In the centre stood before a waist-high altar was a lone hooded cultist, addressing his fellow worshipers with an ancient tongue not heard in decades. It was a spine-chilling sermon, a demonstration definitely not one for the faint of heart. After a rather heated section of the oration, the leader gestured for several of his followers to bring forth a prisoner. The stealthy Elven intruder managed to slip into the crowd during the act and watched intently as the ceremony unfolded. The captive was dragged into the chamber by his arms and from the looks of his battered body had seen better days.

Taking advantage the commotion, the Rogue began inspecting the robed figures for visible weapons. Predictably they were all similarly armed with small daggers or short swords – nothing particularly special but threatening in such large numbers. Steadily the interloper pressed through the crowd purposefully moving slow to avoid attracting attention, whilst keeping their eye on the perimeter of the room. Very few exits meant a lack of options should things go wrong.

Suddenly the ritual came to a standstill and the cultist leader drew his blade. It was immediately obvious to the furtive intruder that the acolytes intended to spill some blood and leaving no chance up to fate began pushing to the front of the crowd. As the ceremonial sword reached its pinnacle above its wielders head, the Elven assassin burst from the congregation and tore away their cloak. The dull-coloured garment fluttered to the dusty floor leaving behind the nimble figure of a blonde female Sin'dorei. Her outfit was very provisional, held together with straps and buckles and leaving no protection for her bare arms. A long, tattered dark red cloak draped toward her ankles and her hands were scarcely covered with a pair of crude fingerless gloves. Even for a Rogue her attire was underwhelming.

With remarkable fluidity she tore away a crudely-assembled shotgun slung over her right shoulder and aimed it at the lead cultist. Anticipating an intervention from the assailants to her rear, she quickly drew a long blade from over her left shoulder and poised it directly at them. For what must have seemed like several minutes the entire room fell silent in confusion.

"What... what is the meaning of..." Sputtered the acolyte in charge, before being promptly cut off by the female intruder.

"He comes with me." She ordered, nodding downward at the kneeling hostage.

The cultist stared for several moments as if he was gauging the sincerity of the demand. Realising the odds were clearly in his favour he smirked and shook his head.

"I don't think so."

Without so much as a pause, the Blood Elf lowered her gun and pointed it at the prisoner. She gave the cultist another glance and raised her eyebrows in anticipation of his response. Knowing full well how this ceremony worked, she gave the cowering hostage a swift kick and ordered him to his feet. As soon as his legs straightened out she flipped the sword over her palm and brought it to his neck, taking him as a captive of her own. Slowly she began backing away and made for the closest exit, keeping her eyes and firearm pointed firmly at the crowd.

Once the pair had slipped into the adjacent corridor and out of sight, the prisoner was allowed the freedom to remove the hood placed over his head. Quickly he tore away the cover revealing his rugged-Sin'dorei features. His hair was long and a light shade of black and his face was rather handsome even for an Elf. Immediately he turned to his 'rescuer' in the hope of recognising who she was, but her appearance was far from familiar to him.

"Who... who are you?" He asked in a panicked state. His hands were shaking and his voice trembled.

The woman had no time for introductions and replaced the shotgun over her shoulder before turning to leave the cathedral. Her hopes of an easy escape were shattered however as a group of cultists appeared down the hallway and cut them off. She also knew the group behind her would waste no time in the pursuit.

"Dammit..." She mumbled as she tightened her grip on the crude blade.

Calmly she scanned the corridor for an opportunity but all the windows were boarded and the debris offered no cover should the fight turn to spell casting. However that gave her an idea.

"How is your magic?" She asked her quivering accomplice, unsure if he could even be relied on to stay calm.

"Magic...?" He asked in surprise. "...I don't know magic!"

The assassin rolled her eyes in disappointment and returned her attention to the entourage ahead. There were five of them in all and she had to admit open combat was not exactly her forte – especially with a whimpering hostage in tow.

"Listen to me..." She demanded in a stern tone, "...you know how to cast magic. Think hard..."

The hooded acolytes drew their small blades and began advancing. The situation for the two Elves was growing more dangerous by the second and to make it worse they could hear approaching footsteps from behind.

"Shadow magic..." The woman continued, "Think about it. You _know_ this."

Confused, the dark-haired escapee began examining his shaking hands. The unbelievable claims from this rogue were almost alien to him, never had he even thought of using magic before – the sheer danger alone was enough to put him off. He could hardly concentrate as the surrounding peril almost reached its' undoubtedly bloody finale. The assassin lowered her gaze slightly and tensed herself for what was about to come, it was simply a matter of kill or be killed and the odds were well against her.

"I liked you better when you were cast-happy..." She muttered and braced herself.

Frantically the male Elf clutched his palms and squeezed with all his might, attempting a scream between his clenched teeth. As if by mere chance or an ironic gift of the gods, his fists burst into green flame. Without even opening his eyes he released the caged scream from within his mouth and forced his arms forward, unleashing an intense barrage of shadow bolt magic. The acolytes were torn from the ground and blown in several directions amidst a haze of dark energy, the slaughter was glorious. The last of the flailing bodies hit a nearby wall and slumped to the floor as the amnesiac warlock opened his eyes. The sight of such carnage almost forced him into shock and he may have lost his footing had his companion not grasped his shoulder to support him.

"Wh... did I...?"

It was clear his mental situation had only gotten worse but at the very least the path was clear now. Crudely the woman pushed him forward and set off in a light sprint of her own; it wasn't over yet.


	2. Chapter 01: Unorthodox Methods

**CHAPTER 1**

_Unorthodox Methods_

Though perhaps more widely known than it wishes to be, the somewhat secretive Ravenholdt assassins league has spent decades manipulating and twisting events from the shadows. Expertly positioning agents of extraordinary talents into profitable situations was the calling card of this dubious 'agency' and Rogues Azeroth-wide would train for years to simply apply for such a role. It was the pinnacle of the underworld, the target to which so many would aspire to and to which most would sorely fail.

Aranaya's induction to the shadowy elite was more a gift of chance rather than a lifetime of determination. Though her skills surpassed those of many of her peers, her acceptance was surrounded by a veil of manipulation and deception. Not on her part of course, a fledgling Sin'dorei Rogue would hardly have the influence to make such events happen. Irregardless of the details, Aranaya had spent years completing contracts for Ravenholdt and over time built a level of trust amongst its commanding tier. It was in no small thanks to this detail then that her recent endeavours had proven so... successful.

Fahrad, the grand-master Rogue of Ravenholdt, hardly shifted his concentration as Aranaya quietly slipped into the room. Though she had been missing for some time, the human thought very little of her fate and had always presumed to see her once more. His focus remained on the book in his hands until the fair-haired Rogue addressed him.

"I need to find the cabal..." She announced in her usual, soft tone.

Fahrad drew a deep breath and placed the book on the table before him. He took a moment to lean back against his chair and examine his guest for a moment. Her appearance had changed very little over the last year, but then again her looks were always the last thing on her mind. After a few moments of deliberation, he nodded intently and responded;

"That could be a problem."

Aranaya shifted her shoulders slightly, clearly disappointed with the response. She had seen her own share of misfortunes of late and the last thing she wanted was more complications. Fahrad could sense her dissatisfaction and had little hope to offer her.

"You knew how this would play out if you left, Naya. Very... influential figures had their eyes on Valharian. With you gone, it was only a matter of time."

Her attention drifted slightly as she silently drew conclusions in her mind. She knew the only protection her protégé had against said dignitaries of power was her own knowledge of how they would strike. With her absence came a number of opportunities for her enemies and it was only to be expected they would make their move. For several moments she appeared lost in thought, though this was a common sight for Fahrad – Aranaya was a Rogue of intricate detail after all.

"Where do I find him?" She asked finally.

Fahrad chuckled under his breath, realising his former apprentice couldn't be fooled. Valharian was famous for his tactical brilliance and would never succumb to an untimely fate so easily - even without his assassin bodyguard. The Rogue master began to explain in no small detail of what transpired shortly after Aranaya's departure, though none of it came as a surprise to her considering all she had learned in the months prior. Upon learning of the tactician's fate, she wasted no time in departing for his location. From what she understood, his miraculous luck had almost run out...

Almost a full day later Aranaya found herself witness to the slaughter of several admirably-armed acolytes. Her frantic accomplice struggled to understand the situation just as much as she was thankful for it. Their somewhat anarchic attempt at escape left them with no time to discuss pleasantries and instead forced them to cooperate with the task at hand. The crumbling halls of the derelict cathedral seemed to twist and turn in an almost maze-like fashion further adding to the sense of urgency in the two escapees. Aranaya, normally a calm and collected individual, found herself in a light panic as she was forced to defend more than just her own life.

The occasional acolyte managed to block their path but didn't stand for long against the shapely-assassin's expert blade. Much to her dismay, her warlock companion had lost all sense of concentration and would be no further use in a struggle. Thankfully they stumbled into the main foyer and it wasn't long before they could feel the chilly caress of the Silverpine winds against their exhausted faces. Valharian clutched his knees as he attempted to catch his breath and turned to glance back into the building. His eyes widened at the sight of the relentless mob still caught in pursuit.

"It's hopeless..." He stuttered, "...we'll never get away."

Aranaya took a brief moment to survey the surrounding forest. Even with the aid of her sharp Elven senses, this haunted woodland was almost impossible to navigate blindly. Indeed, her arrival at the cathedral in the first place was partly due to a gift of fate. Somewhat defeated, her shoulders sank and she mumbled under breath.

"Keep moving." She demanded and began sprinting southward into the wood line.

With only seconds separating the pair from their would-be murderers, Valharian gained a new incentive to keep moving and quickly set off after his rescuer. The pair disappeared into the mess of trees and foliage, leaving the large group of hooded fanatics to ponder their next move. They knew all too well that escaping Silverpine forest was almost impossible during the night...

Several minutes passed and the two fleeing Elves finally began to run out of breath and almost slowed to a light jog. Though Aranaya could muster the strength to continue further, Valharian was clearly not accustomed to such physical tasks. Thankfully the chase seemed to have ended and they took a moment to gather themselves amidst a small clearing. The moon had almost reached the centre of the sky and pierced the snaking branches above, bathing the duo in a luminescent light. For a moment their dire situation was replaced with an almost peaceful period of serenity.

"This... is your... plan?" Valharian asked between frantic breaths.

Aranaya gave him a cold stare in response and wisely chose to keep her vocal feelings on the matter inside. Regardless of how bad the situation seemed, they were still alive and that counted for something. After taking a moment to ensure they were no longer being followed, the cold-mannered Rogue let loose a sharp whistle between her fingers. Valharian's ears immediately twitched in shock, understandably concerned about the noise. His apprehension was replaced with confusion however as a large red hawkstrider emerged from the nearby shrubbery,

"This is my plan." Aranaya announced as she took hold of the reigns.

Within seconds the bird began carrying the two Sin'dorei further southward toward the Hillsbrad border. It seemed as if the sketchy rescue attempt had met with resounding success, at least until they caught the sound of something very unpleasant. A deafening howl bellowed from the north and seemed to shake the branches of the nearby trees as it caught the ears of the two Elves. Valharian was at a loss, but Aranaya was all too familiar with the warning. She dropped her head and closed her eyes at the thought of what was about to unfold. Immediately she forced the hawkstrider into a faster sprint and silently prayed for a miracle.

Valharian sat on the rear of the bird and was forced to huddle close to his female accomplice to avoid any accidental mishaps such as falling off. Curious, he turned his gaze to the rear and his eyes met with a terrifying sight. Baring down on the absconding duo was none other than a rabid, slavering Worgen in a sprinting motion that out-rightly put their hawkstrider to shame. The warlock's jaw dropped and understandably his attempted scream failed to even leave his throat. As the frenzied beast drew within striking distance, it mustered a great deal of energy in its hind legs and pounced forth in a deadly motion. Finally taking note of the imminent danger Aranaya tore the shotgun from her back, spun the weapon around her outstretched wrist and fired the weapon at the unholy abomination. The recoil from the blast almost forced her off the mount, unfortunately losing her grip on the gun in the process. Both injured monster and projectile weapon hit the ground simultaneously as the crimson bird tore into the distance. Valharian released a huge sigh of relief and crudely collapsed against his partner.

Aranaya wasn't as reassured as her accomplice, knowing full well that Worgen rarely hunt alone. Loosely she clutched the hilt of the blade over her left shoulder and used her free hand to tightly pull the reigns and keep the mount steady. It wasn't long before her suspicions were realised and two more lunar hounds emerged from either side of the pathway. Tauntingly they drew parallel to the bipedal creature and remained just outside of swiping distance of Aranaya's sword. She switched her attention between the two beasts repeatedly and tensed her weapon arm in preparation for any sudden movements. The hawkstrider tried several times to veer off the path and away from the danger leaving its distressed rider to constantly struggle with it.

Knowing she couldn't take the two Worgen if they attempted an attack at the same time, Aranaya was forced to make a quick decision. As calm as she could manage she took a slow deep breath and relaxed her shoulders. Suddenly she pushed her body upwards and brought her feet to the saddle, leaving her in a loose crouched position. As the pursuing beasts prepared themselves for a synchronised attack, the light-haired assassin thrust herself into the air and spun her legs forward in a crescent-kick manoeuvre. Time almost seemed seem to slow down as she soared majestically in the air with her legs pointing to the sky. In a stunningly slick flick of the wrists, she pulled a pair of throwing daggers from her belt and tossed them in opposite directions. With perhaps an unnatural accuracy the small blades cut the air and impaled themselves in the skull of each Worgen. As the harried fiends dropped to the ground in a spectacular tumble, Aranaya gracefully fell to her previous position and whipped hard on the hawkstrider reigns. The sight of the green Hillsbrad fields on the horizon was all the bird needed to increase its pace.

It was time to finally get some answers...


	3. Chapter 02: The war in Warlock

**CHAPTER 2**

_The war in Warlock_

With no other obstacles impeding their journey, Aranaya and Valharian arrived at Ravenholdt in due time. Though Aranaya had no plan to speak of, she knew the events that followed would revolve almost entirely around the unwitting Warlock and it was imperative he be kept safe until he was ready. Leaving Valharian to rest on the lower floor, she made her way up to Fahrad's room and found the grand master discussing something of clear importance with two other shady characters. Like him they were human, but wore dark covers over their heads to hide their facial features. After several moments of deliberation Fahrad noticed the Sin'dorei waiting patiently by the door.

"Ah. Gentlemen, I have other matters to attend to. I'm sure you have everything you need."

The two dark figures glanced at Aranaya and stood motionless for a moment as if studying her. Though their entire faces were well covered, she could have sworn they sneered at her. Swiftly they disappeared onto the balcony and out of sight, leaving Fahrad to switch his attention.

"I assume all went well." He said in an upbeat tone, "That particular cult is widely known as tricky to deal with."

"He's safe." Aranaya interrupted, "But not for long. Not here."

Fahrad slowly nodded and began thinking. He bit his lower lip as his eyes drifted around the room.

"What about the cabal?" The Elf asked.

"Hmm... No. They all but fell apart after Valharian disappeared, they'd be no use to you as they are. And besides, I wouldn't even know where to find them. Their former leader instructed them well on disguising their location."

Aranaya took a deep breath and sighed. She hated the idea of having no options, it felt restricting and hopeless. Even with a safe place to hide, she knew the people looking for Valharian would have little trouble finding him. She sank on to a nearby chair and draped her arms toward the floor. It was obvious she needed help.

"Get some rest." Fahrad suggested. "I'll call in a few contacts and see if I can figure something out."

That was the one thing Aranaya didn't feel like doing. Even though the episode in Silverpine had taken a lot out of her, the idea of sleeping in such a tense situation was the last thing on her mind. Still, she had no other suggestions and if what she expected next was true she would need her energy.

Rather curiously Aranaya slept very soundly that night and didn't awake until the middle of the following day. The sound of combat practice in the gardens finally wrestled her from her unconsciousness and curious she decided to investigate. From the balcony overlooking the practice grounds she could make out several miscellaneous Rogues working on their swordplay. Even though she had been to Ravenholdt many times in the past, she had never thought of it as a place to improve oneself. It was after all a haven for talented assassins, the idea of it doubling as a school of sorts was almost comical to her.

Aranaya's study of the battle below was suddenly interrupted as a rather quiet stranger entered the room. Lesser-trained ears would probably have missed the sound completely. Slowly she turned her head and her eyes widened at the sight of a very familiar figure.

"Your timing is a little off..." She muttered sarcastically. "I needed your help about a year ago."

The character in question was none other than the infamous master assassin himself, 'The Wolf'. He stood rather tall for a human, wearing a long black rain coat and a large fedora covering his lengthy matted hair. Having plucked Aranaya from a life of magic-addiction as a child, the enigmatic assassin raised her in his own image. Everything she is and everything she can do was passed down directly from him. He was her mentor and she, his protégé. It had been a number of years since Aranaya finally stood on her own laurels and gained the title of 'Crimson Wolf' among tavern-goers and superstitious nay-Sayers. It was only to be expected considering her similar style to that of her teacher.

"You're a big girl now." He replied with a smile, "Besides, you know as well as I that you made it personal. I had no place in that."

Aranaya sunk her head and fell silent. He was right, what happened was her own doing and she deliberately shut everyone out. Perhaps the time had come to pay for that mistake and there was nothing she could do. But she would never believe that; fate was an excuse to her, never an obstacle.

"So what happened? It was the demon hunter again correct?"

"Yes." Aranaya replied with a sigh. "His fanaticism with that damned rock nearly killed us all."

"And is he dead?"

"Possibly. But that's the least of my problems."

Suddenly she turned to her once-father figure and stared at him with a determined expression. Even with his unusual positive outlook on life, the Wolf could tell things were getting serious. His Elven student was always sombre regardless of the situation but this was clearly something else.

"There's a world..." She began, "...exactly like this one. The same people, the same places, just... well, different. It was there that Raythe found what he was looking for."

The Wolf drew in a calm breath and nodded in understanding. The story was not unfamiliar to him.

"This... 'Scious' that he thought you had?"

"Yes." Aranaya replied, devoid of any real emotion. She paused for a moment. "What do you know of Sargeras?"

Now the conversation was starting to worry the reclusive human. Though he rarely concerned himself with anything outside of his area of expertise, some legends were known by everyone simply because that's what they were – legends. Sargeras was the epitome of evil, the insane leader of the destructive burning legion and the biggest threat Azeroth had ever faced. Just the mention of his name was enough to instil fear into even the coldest of hearts.

"I know he's not something a young Sin'dorei should concern herself with." He replied in a very clear and suggestive tone.

Aranaya rolled her eyes. It was too late for that; events beyond her control had already been set into motion. And to make matters worse, the one person capable of remedying the entire situation was suffering from long-term memory loss.

"Listen to me..." She snapped, "Raythe tried to use the Scious in Stranglethorn and pulled us both into that twisted mirror realm. It fell into some very bad hands and that's when I found out what its real purpose was."

"And what's that? A weapon?"

"No." Aranaya scoffed. "Something worse. A group of fanatical demon-worshippers planned to use it summon the spirit of Sargeras. The Scious is connected to him, if used properly it grants him an ethereal form."

The Wolf narrowed his eyes and blinked in confusion. This was huge, such a revelation was almost impossible to comprehend. He rubbed the back of his neck and gave the news some thought; it didn't all seem to add up.

"Well... what happened to it?" He asked finally.

"I broke it." Aranaya replied after a brief pause. "It split into three pieces and disappeared."

"Disappeared like it did in Stranglethorn? So then... it's here somewhere?"

The Elf nodded in affirmation; that was certainly her guess. Unfortunately the one person capable of finding the missing pieces had lost his memory and didn't even know he had the ability. To make matters worse, Aranaya wasn't the only person who knew about it.

The meeting between the two veteran assassins was interrupted by the sound of violence from outside. There was something different to this and quickly Aranaya pushed past her former mentor and vaulted over the wooden railing overlooking the floor below. As soon as she hit the ground floor she rolled and broke into a sprint towards the main entrance. Once outside she found herself facing a group of very familiar demon-worshippers, with the amnesiac Valharian stood between them and her. The tallest of the cultists stepped forward and removed his black hood, revealing the pale grey face of an aged human. His head was devoid of any hair and in its place was a series of snaking tattoos that covered his scalp. His eyes were red and his expression was just as fiery.

"You... will come with... us..." He demanded with a croaky voice whilst pointing a quivering finger at the Warlock.

Valharian, clearly caught by surprise stood motionless, unsure how to respond. However even without his memory his intelligence was still evident, and he quickly realised he was of some considerable value to them.

"I don't think so..." He stuttered, trying his best to remain calm as he tried his luck.

The cultist had no patience and roared in frustration as he thrust his arm in a swinging motion and hit Valharian with a powerful shadowbolt. The Elf flew a good thirty feet, arms flailing until he hit the nearby manor wall. Unconscious, he slumped to the ground. Aranaya moved her attention from his seemingly-lifeless body and instead focused on his attacker.

"I need him alive..." She announced before quickly drawing two daggers from the base of her back. "...So please be a little more careful."

Her opponent seemed to care even less about her than he did the Warlock and effortlessly discharged a second shadowbolt. Aranaya nimbly leaned to one side as the spell soared past her before straightening up again. It would take more than that to take her down. Allowing no time for the cultist to regain his composure, she immediately rushed his position and pounced into the air, spinning horizontally in hopes of slashing him with some force. One of her daggers managed to tear into his casting arm forcing him backwards in reflex. As her left foot touched the ground she spun once more and her second dagger cut the air mere inches from his face. She was fast and he knew it.

"Kill her!" He frantically announced as he attempted a short retreat.

Within moments Aranaya was surrounded and as a Rogue that was not a good position for her to be in. The cultists each drew a blade and prepared to strike all at once, leaving the cornered Elf with very few options. She glanced around quickly, searching for options but it was too late. Yet more blood was spilled. The robed acolytes were flung in several directions, their sudden screams a testament to their surprise. Aranaya looked upwards from the ground in confusion to find bodies hitting the ground in all directions. A sword impaled the ground a short distance from her head acting as a prelude to the assault. Calmly she turned her head toward the manor and found Valharian recovered from his attack. His right hand flickered with green energy and his attitude seemed somewhat... different. He gazed at the cultist leader clutching his wounded arm and spoke directly;

"No second chances..."

The Warlock released a blinding bolt of shadow energy and watched as it tore through his opponent's body. The aged acolyte hit the ground in several pieces leaving literally no survivors to the onslaught. Breathing a sigh of relief, Aranaya dropped her head and smiled for the first time in years - Perhaps there was hope after all. She turned to Valharian who glanced back at her. He winked in his usual confident manner and shook the flickering embers from his hand.

They had a lot to discuss.


End file.
